Choices
by NickyM96
Summary: [J/MP, MP/B] Miss Parker makes a choice that forever changes the lives of those around her. Warning - Not my usual, cheery & sappy type of story, but it has it's moments.
1. Choices I My Only Choice

Title: My Only Choice  
Author: Nicky  
E-mail: NickyM96@yahoo.com  
Rating: PG  
Keywords: J/MP, MP/B  
Summary: Miss Parker makes a choice that forever changes the   
lives of those around her. First in a series.  
Disclaimer: As much as I'd like it, these characters don't   
belong to me. I'm just using them for fun. Although, I don't   
think they have much fun in this story :-) I'll be sure to send   
them to therapy before returning them.  
  
Choices I - My Only Choice  
By Nicky  
  
I'm trying to smile. I'm trying to feign happiness. But I   
can't. What should be the happiest day of my life is quite   
possibly the very event that will finally break my spirit. They   
tried so hard at the Centre for many years to accomplish that.   
But they shouldn't have even bothered. I seemed to have managed   
it quite nicely on my own.   
  
I glance to my right, watching the man standing there move his   
mouth, but I don't register any sounds come out. This is a   
mistake. I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't be doing this for so   
many reasons. But for one very big reason, I have to. So I am.  
  
I notice again the silence. But this time it's because   
everyone's looking at me expectantly. I must have zoned out.   
And I think it's my turn to say something now. Luckily for me,   
the man standing before me prompts me again for my part and I   
obediently repeat it this time.  
  
"I Marisa, take you Simon to be my lawfully wedded husband." I   
don't even bothering to fake enthusiasm anymore. This moment is   
beyond surreal. And I ask myself for probably the hundredth time   
this week, just how I got into this mess. I wonder how is it   
I've come to be standing here today.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
3 days earlier . . .  
  
The news hits me like a ton of bricks. How could this be?   
Actually, it's not that hard to figure out the how. Maybe the   
better question is why? Why is this happening to me right now?  
  
A knock at my office door finally penetrates the fogginess around   
my brain and I call out to whoever's there to go away.   
Surprisingly, the door opens instead. I look up and growl at   
whoever has the nerve to disobey.  
  
"I said go away!" I feel kind of bad when he jumps in fear. I   
really don't try to make Broots utterly afraid of me. At least,   
not all the time. Sometimes, I admit, it is kind of fun to see   
if I can scare him so badly that he wets himself. It hasn't   
happened . . . yet. But, the day is still young.  
  
"What's wrong, Miss Parker?" he bravely says.   
  
"Nothing you can help me with," I sigh, turning away from him. I   
stare at the still full tumbler of the strongest liquor in my   
cabinet. It sits on my desk untouched, the ice slowly melting.   
Much like my sanity at the moment.  
  
"Let's get out of here," he offers, pulling on my arm. I only   
then notice he's standing right over me. I didn't even see him   
walk across the room. My mind is definitely gone today. But who   
could blame me with the issue I'm dealing with?  
  
I give the glass of scotch one last glance before nodding my head   
in acquiescence. I really do need someone to talk to.  
  
I'm in a daze the entire trip. I don't even know where it is   
he's taking me until we arrive. His house. Casa de Broots.  
  
"What are we doing here?" I ask absently.  
  
"You look like you need to talk. And based on the look on your   
face and the big drink you were contemplating, I'd say whatever's   
on your mind is bad enough that the Centre doesn't need to hear   
about it."  
  
"Smart man," I smile at him. I walk around his living room,   
stopping by the fireplace to look at the pictures on the mantle.   
I pick up one and trace over the smiling face, a smile coming to   
my own face.  
  
"That's Debbie's latest school picture," Broots tells me. "I   
can't believe how much she's growing up. She used to be my baby,   
but not anymore."  
  
"They do grow up quickly," I agree, my own problems suddenly   
coming back to mind. Before I know it, I'm sitting on the couch,   
sobbing violently on his shoulder.  
  
"Miss Parker, just tell me what's wrong," Broots begs, gently   
stroking my back in long, soothing motions.  
  
"Everything," I sniff, pushing away from him. "I don't know what   
to do. Broots, I'm pregnant."  
  
Okay, I think I've finally succeeded in making him wet himself.   
The look on his face alone is enough to make me start laughing.   
But this isn't a laughing matter. And it isn't a joke. It's my   
life and I've managed to ruin it. Of course, I had some help in   
this latest endeavor. You know, 'it takes two to tango' and all   
of those cliches. I most definitely had help getting into my   
current condition.  
  
"You're pregnant?" he asks, I guess to be sure I said what I   
really said. I just nod my head.  
  
"H-h-how?" he stutters. I just give him an unbelieving look and   
he shakes his head. "I guess the obvious way," he says with a   
little laugh.   
  
"At the Centre, there's no such thing," I tell him. "But yes, I   
managed to get myself knocked up the old fashioned way." I give   
him a weak smile that is followed quickly by more tears.  
  
"How do you feel about this?"  
  
"I'm thrilled, can't you tell?" I yell sarcastically at him. But   
there's really more honesty in my comment than I realize. At   
first, I was shocked. But I've had a little while for it to sink   
in. I'm having a baby. A little baby is growing inside of me.   
And believe it or not, I'm actually pretty excited about it.  
  
"Sorry," I quickly apologize to him. "I didn't mean to snap at   
you. This was . . . unexpected, but I'm happy that I'm having   
this baby. But having it right now terrifies me."  
  
"Why? Won't the father . . . " He stops talking when I suddenly   
look away, unable to meet his glance anymore. "What about the   
father? Do you . . . know who . . . I mean, was this a . . ."  
  
"Fling? One night stand?"  
  
"I'm sorry," he blushes. "I don't mean to imply anything."  
  
"I know who the baby's father is. But he's in no position to be   
this baby's father," I say sadly.  
  
"So the creep just dumps you?" he asks angrily. I smile at him   
coming to the defense of my honor, but it isn't necessary.  
  
"Calm down, Broots. I haven't even told him. I probably won't.   
I can't."  
  
"But you have to," he insists. "It's the right thing to do. He   
has a right to know."  
  
"He can't know he's this baby's father. Nobody can know. They'd   
kill us all if they found out," I cry. "They'd take my baby   
from me and then kill me. I'm not going to let that happen."  
  
"They? They who? The Centre? Why would the Centre want your   
baby?" he asks, realization dawning in his eyes. I can tell he   
doesn't want to come out and say it, but based on the look on his   
face, he's already figured out the answer to that question.   
  
"They would want my baby because of who its father is," I   
confess.  
  
"Jarod," he gasps. It's not a question, so I don't answer. He   
takes my silence as confirmation.  
  
"You said that this was . . . unexpected. Does that mean you   
were . . . did he . . . hurt you or anything?"  
  
"Broots, no! It's nothing like that. He would never hurt me," I   
say, my eyes wide at what he was implying. "Jarod and I have   
been together for awhile now."  
  
"Together?"  
  
"Sleeping together," I clarify.   
  
"Oh. So you two are in love?" he asks warily.  
  
"Yes. We are," I say with a smile I can't hide. I know that's   
really not what he wants to hear right now. I'm not blind. I've   
noticed that Broots is kind of sweet on me. But it's the truth.   
I love Jarod with my whole heart. This wasn't just a casual   
affair we were having.  
  
"And that's why this is so difficult," he says, finally   
understanding the problem.   
  
"I can't be with him anymore," I whisper. "Not with a baby to   
protect. We have a hard enough time keeping our relationship a   
secret. With me being pregnant and unmarried, someone at the   
Centre is bound to wonder who the father is. Then Jarod and I   
would both be in danger."  
  
"But what if you weren't unmarried?" Broots says, sounding   
suddenly nervous.  
  
"Broots, you know Jarod and I can't get married."  
  
"What if you weren't married to Jarod? What if you were married   
to someone else less desirable to the Centre? Someone who they   
wouldn't care about you having kids with?"  
  
"I'm pregnant, Broots. And I'm in love with another man. Who   
would marry me under those circumstances? Sydney? You?" I ask   
jokingly.  
  
"Well since you asked so nicely, yes," he says, shocking a gasp   
out of me.   
  
"What?" I manage to squeak out. "Broots, I was joking."  
  
"But I'm not," he says. "It makes perfect sense. Like you were   
saying, they're going to wonder who got you pregnant. Unless you   
don't give them a reason to wonder. We can get married and   
they'll assume the baby is mine."  
  
"What about Debbie?" Wait a second. Where did that come from?   
Am I really considering this idea? I must admit, he has a point.   
This idea does have merit. But I couldn't marry him. Could I?   
Even if it would mean protecting Jarod and our child?  
  
"Are you kidding me? Debbie's crazy about you. And you see how   
much she's grown up. She's had to do most of that without a   
mother. With you here, well, she'd have one," he says shyly.  
  
"It wouldn't be fair to you. I'm completely in love with Jarod."   
I tell him, my final argument. "I can't love you. Not that way."  
  
"I understand that," he says, grabbing my hand and giving it a   
gentle squeeze. "But what else are you going to do? You can't   
go on the run, not with a baby on the way."  
  
He's right. What else am I going to do? There isn't a question   
of whether or not I'm going to have the baby. I couldn't get rid   
of it. So I'm going to have to do whatever it takes to keep it   
safe. This is my only choice.  
  
"Okay," I say shakily. "If you're really sure . . . "  
  
"I'm positive," he says, giving me a huge smile. He seems   
genuinely happy. Ecstatic, even. Suddenly I don't feel very   
good. And I don't think it has anything to do with morning   
sickness.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
"I Marisa, take you Simon to be my lawfully wedded husband." I   
don't know how I manage to say that without crying, but I do.   
  
"To have and to hold from this day forward," the judge starts   
again.  
  
"To have and to hold . . . " I pause and look up at my intended.   
Broots has the happiest look on his face. I know I agreed to do   
this, but I can't do it this way. Not by lying to him.  
  
"From this day forward," the judge prompts me.  
  
"You know what, I think I have my own vows, if you don't mind," I   
say, watching the look on the judge's face turn from confused to   
just annoyed. After his reluctant nod, I turn back to Broots and   
take a deep breath, trying to figure out what to say. All I know   
is that I can't stand here and make promises I don't mean. Not   
to him. Not with what he's doing for me.  
  
"When I agreed to this, I was a bit reluctant. There was so much   
that I told you I couldn't give you." I see him nod his head in   
understanding and know I don't need to elaborate. He knows I   
don't love him. I can't love him. On this day, I should be   
giving him my heart, but that's been taken long ago by the man   
who's child I now carry. The man who I wish could be standing   
before me today. But instead of my heart and my love, I know I   
must give him something. So I look at him and promise what I   
can. "All I can offer are these words:  
  
"I, Marisa, take you, Simon, to be my lawfully wedded husband   
secure in the knowledge that you will be my constant friend and   
my faithful partner. On this special day, I give to you in front   
of all these witnesses my sacred promise to stay by your side as   
your faithful wife as long as the bonds of our union exist. I   
promise to appreciate and respect you without reservation, comfort   
you in times of distress, encourage you to achieve all of your   
goals, laugh with you and cry with you, always be open and honest   
with you, and cherish this sacrifice you've made for me for as   
long as we both shall live."  
  
He smiles at me with tears in his eyes and I feel guilty. He   
promised me his love. I promised him my friendship. He wants   
until death do us part and I vowed to stay faithful to him as   
long as we were married. Nevertheless, by the power vested to   
this judge by the state of Delaware, we're husband and wife now.   
I get a quick kiss from my new husband and end up pulling quickly   
away, overcome with nausea that I explain away as pregnancy   
related.   
  
Why did I allow this? I could destroy him just as easily as I've   
destroyed my own life. I'm going to try not to, but it's   
inevitable and we both know it. But there was no other way.   
This was my only choice. I just hope that one day, Jarod will   
understand.  
  
To be continued . . . 


	2. Choices II Letting Go

Title: Letting Go  
Author: Nicky  
E-mail: NickyM96@yahoo.com  
Rating: PG  
Keywords: J/MP, MP/B, Angst  
Summary: Miss Parker makes a choice that forever changes the   
lives of those around her. Sequel to My Only Choice.  
Disclaimer: As much as I'd like it, these characters don't   
belong to me. I'm just using them for fun. Although, I don't   
think they have much fun in this story :-) I'll be sure to send   
them to therapy before returning them.  
  
Choices II - Letting Go  
By Nicky  
  
Have you ever had one of those days you wish you could live over   
again? Push the big rewind button of life and start all over?   
Well, I'm having one of those days. Except mine is more like a   
month long. No, make that two months long. That's when this all   
started. Two months ago when I made the biggest mistake of my   
life. Yeah, that's when it all started. Or should I say, when   
it all ended.  
  
It started like so many other days. I woke early that morning   
with the sun shining in my eyes and a warm body wrapped tightly   
around my own. I had a pretend to work on that would keep me out   
of town for about a week, so we spent the entire previous night   
saying good-bye to each other. She made sure I'd miss her. And   
boy did I ever miss her. I still do. That was the last night we   
ever spent that way.   
  
I kissed her good-bye, not knowing it would be for the last time   
and went on my way. She begged me to stay. She always begs me   
to stay, but I just gave her another kiss and told her I'd be   
back soon. Which was the truth. I came back when I said I   
would. But she's the one who wasn't there. Had I known . . .   
  
I squeeze my eyes tight as the burn from whatever concoction my   
new friend the bartender just gave me makes its way all   
throughout my body.  
  
"Give me another one," I manage to slur. "And make it a double."  
  
"Don't you think you've had enough?" a voice from behind me   
asks. The bartender looks over my shoulder and nods at whoever's   
there, taking away my many empty glasses. He sits a cup of hot   
coffee in front of me instead and one next to me. I turn around   
to glare at my guest.  
  
"What are you doing here?" I shake my head to reconcile the two   
images I see before me, but I only succeed in making myself   
dizzy.   
  
"Jarod, we need to talk."  
  
* * * * * * * * * *  
  
Earlier that night . . .  
  
The lock clicks over easily and I push my way inside the dark   
house. No one was home yet. But that didn't matter. I'll wait   
until they get here. I've been trying for two months to track   
her down and I think tonight is finally the night.  
  
Two months ago was the last time I saw her. The crazy part is   
that I have no idea why. She seems to be avoiding me. Or   
running from me. Deliberately trying to keep away from me. It's   
ironic in a way. I've become the hunter, she the hunted. But   
where she's been chasing me for a few years, I've managed to   
track her down in a few weeks. Seven to be exact.  
  
I take out a flashlight and peek around at the living room. It's   
been awhile since I've been here. Reaching up on the mantle, I   
take down a picture and I'm stunned to see how much Debbie has   
grown. She really has turned into a beautiful young woman.   
Replacing the picture, I pick up another one and I think I   
literally stop breathing. It was a picture of Miss Parker   
standing next to a euphoric looking Broots. But what catches my  
eye is the glint coming off the rings on their fingers. Matching   
silver bands with no mistake in their significance.  
  
A rush of air escapes, forcing me to draw another one in. I feel  
kind of sick and dizzy and put the picture back in it's place   
before hobbling over to the couch. I sit there for what could be   
minutes or hours. I don't really know. But after awhile, I hear   
car doors slam. They're home. I go stand in the hallway to keep   
them from seeing me until they get all the way in the house.  
  
Broots holds the door open while Debbie and Miss Parker come   
inside. Miss Parker has her arms wrapped around Debbie's neck,   
hugging her loosely. She's smiling. She's happy. My heart   
sinks. It's like she belongs here. They seem like a family.   
Despite my anger, I can't hurt her. I can't destroy that for   
her. She releases Debbie and the girl runs upstairs. I wait   
until she gets to the sofa before stepping out from the darkness.  
  
"Miss Parker," I call. She jumps when she hears my voice,   
turning around to see me where I'm standing behind her. "Or   
should I call you Mrs. Broots now."  
  
"Jarod," she gasps. "What are you doing here?"  
  
"Looking for you. I haven't seen you for two months. I was   
worried about you." My voice is still calm and steady. Nothing   
like how I'm feeling on the inside.  
  
"As you can see, she's fine." I break eye contact with her and   
look up to see Broots standing protectively over her shoulder.   
"So if that's all . . ." He looks towards the door, probably   
hinting that I should leave. Being the genius that I am, I   
realize they wanted me gone. But, I decide to play dumb for   
awhile. Instead of leaving, I move around to the other side of   
the couch and take a seat.  
  
"I guess congratulations are in order," I say with fake   
enthusiasm. "When was the big day? I must have misplaced my   
invitation."  
  
"We've been married for almost two months," Broots says.   
Apparently my beloved has lost her power of speech.  
  
"Two months? Really?" I ask in my most annoying way ever. I   
don't know what I'm trying to do, really. Maybe bait Broots in   
some way? Maybe irritate Miss Parker until she starts yelling at   
me? Anything to get a reaction out of her. She's just sitting   
there. I should just leave. Go while I still have my dignity   
intact. But I don't.   
  
"As I said earlier, I've been looking for you for about two   
months, Miss Pa . . oh, I mean, Mrs. Broots. I guess I should   
have started here. It would have saved me all the messages on   
your voice mail. All the e-mail. All those nights I stayed in   
our bed waiting for you to come home." And as if I haven't   
embarrassed myself enough, I feel an unexpected wetness on my   
face. Great. I'm crying. I bury my face in my hands to try and   
hang onto that last shred of dignity before it's ripped away.  
  
"Jarod," she whispers, grabbing onto my hands. She pulls them   
from my face and wipes my tears away. I look up and see that   
she's crying as well. I enjoy her nearness for a few brief   
moments before pulling away and standing up abruptly.  
  
"I'm sorry. Broots, I didn't mean to intrude," I mutter   
hurriedly on my way to the door. "I'll be going now. You won't   
have to worry about me again. Have a nice life."  
  
I take one last look at her, etching her tear streaked face in my   
memory. This is all I'll have left of her. I have to turn away   
before I cry again. Surprisingly, I have the presence of mind to   
sneak out the back door to avoid getting caught by any sweepers   
possibly watching the house. But after that, I'm on auto pilot.   
I leave my car where it's parked and begin walking until I see   
the sign. JJ's. Inside is dark and smoky. Perfect for me. I   
make my way inside and fall into a seat at the bar.  
  
* * * * * * * * * *  
  
"What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at home with your . .   
. wife," I say through clenched teeth at the man now sitting next   
to me.  
  
"Jarod . . . "  
  
"What, Broots? What do you want from me? Do you want my   
congratulations? Well, congratulations. She's your problem   
now." I end, not with a bang, but with a whimper. And before I   
know it, for the second time that evening, I'm sobbing. Crying   
into my coffee like a big, blubbering idiot.  
  
"I shouldn't yell at you, Broots," I apologize through my tears.   
"I'm just being stupid and jealous. She's not a problem. She's   
a gift. A prize. And you won her. I can see that you love her   
too. That you make her happy. You're a good guy. I can see why   
she loves you." I lean over on him, throwing an arm around his   
shoulder.   
  
"You're good to her, aren't you? You better be, or I'll kill   
you. I mean that. I know 714 ways to kill a man with my little   
finger," I say sternly, trying to keep a straight face. But I   
can't stop the giggles from erupting. I think I'm drunk.  
  
"Jarod, you're drunk," he says, causing me to laugh even harder.   
Didn't we just establish that? "And, you're an idiot. She   
doesn't love me. She loves you." He moves my arm and pushes me   
back over to my stool. "Now drink this coffee and sober up. We   
have a lot to talk about."  
  
"But, she married you," I say. Suddenly nothing seems funny   
anymore and I feel my lip begin to quiver. I think I'm going to   
cry again. Did I say something earlier about dignity? Mine's   
pretty much nonexistent now.  
  
"Coffee, Jarod," he orders. "Then we talk. The three of us."  
  
She wants to talk to me? Is that a good thing or a bad thing, I   
wonder. Well, there's only one way to find out. I down the cup   
of coffee in front of me and two more, trying to sober up   
quickly. I need to have a clear mind for whatever it is she's   
going to say.  
  
* * * * * * * * * *  
  
I stare at the numbers on the door for a few minutes before   
getting up the courage to knock. This could be a trick. It   
might just be a trap. I won't know until I get inside. But he   
told me she's in here. That she wants to talk to me. I have to   
take this chance on seeing her. The door opens and I can tell   
that I made the right decision.  
  
"Come in, Jarod," she says, grabbing onto my hand and pulling me   
inside the hotel room. She points towards the sofa and I eagerly   
obey her silent order while she closes and locks the door.   
Finally, she turns around and faces me, her eyes filled with   
tears, but the look on her face is far from sad.  
  
"I've missed you so much," she whispers, walking to the sofa.   
She sits next to me and pulls me into her arms, kissing my cheek   
once before snuggling into my embrace.   
  
"Then why?" I ask. "Why run from me to another man?"  
  
"Just hold me for a few more minutes," she asks quietly,   
squeezing me tighter. I happily comply, pulling her closer to   
me. It feels so good to hold her like this again. So familiar.   
Yet, so different. She feels different. Rounder and softer.   
But in all the right places.  
  
"You gaining a few pounds?" I ask jokingly. She looks up at me   
with a gleam in her eyes. She's so beautiful she's practically   
glowing. I've missed her so much.  
  
"Quite a few, actually," she smiles mischievously. "Jarod,   
there's something I have to tell you. I'm pregnant."  
  
We sit there. For how long, I wouldn't know. I'm not sure if I   
stopped breathing of if I just passed out. But the next thing I   
know, she's kneeling over me, pressing a cool cloth to the back   
of my neck.  
  
"Jarod, wake up. Come on, you're scaring me."  
  
I hear tears in her voice, so I struggle to the surface and see   
her terrified face staring at me. She helps me sit up and   
presses a kiss to my forehead where I feel some pain. It's a   
lump. I must have hit my head on something.  
  
"You passed out. Hit your head on the table," she confirms for   
me. "I didn't know my news would be so shocking."  
  
"It's . . . unexpected," I say.  
  
"That's what I thought, too," she smiles, placing her hand on her   
stomach. I look down and can see the swell of her abdomen now.   
It's beautiful. She's beautiful. I just want to touch her.  
  
"Can I? I ask shyly, my hand hovering over hers.  
  
"Of course," she smiles, lifting her hand to stroke my cheek.   
She takes my hand in her other one and places it on her belly.   
  
"H-how far along?" I ask, confused at what I'm feeling. I   
didn't think women normally showed this early in the pregnancy.   
She's only been married to Broots for two months. That's still   
the first trimester.   
  
"A little over four months," she tells me. I jerk my head up in   
shock staring at her with wide eyes. A smile starts to play on   
the corners of her mouth. "You're not going to pass out on me   
again are you?"  
  
"Four months ago . . . me and you were . . . and now you . . .   
we . . . "  
  
"Yes, Jarod," she says, shutting up my meaningless rambling. "It   
happened when we were together. We're having a baby. Well, two   
babies actually."  
  
"Twins?" I gasp. "Two babies?" I reach down and put both hands   
on her stomach. It's so amazing. My babies are growing inside   
of her. Our babies. My own family. But then I remember she's a   
part of another family now. I look up at her, confused at what's   
going on. But the look in her eyes tells me the other proverbial   
shoe is about to drop.  
  
"This is why you married him, isn't it?"  
  
"Jarod, I didn't have a choice. I don't have a choice," she   
says.  
  
"You could have told me. We could have figured something out. I   
love you, Parker."  
  
"I know," she says gently, a tear falling down her face. "And I   
love you, too. But we can't do this. Not together. None of us   
would be safe."  
  
"So you married Broots so that they'll think he's the father?"  
  
"I married him so they won't take our babies, Jarod. So they   
won't kill me. Or you. This is the only way," she says again,   
probably trying to convince herself more than she's trying to   
convince me.  
  
The sad truth is that she's probably right. I do fine on my own.   
And I would have managed a way for us to be together safely if   
she wanted to be on the run with me. But with a baby? Two   
babies? It would be hard. But not impossible. Maybe I can   
convince her of that.  
  
"If I could find a way . . . " I start to say. But she quiets   
me with a kiss.  
  
"I can't risk my children," she whispers, fighting back tears.   
"I won't. Not even . . . to be with you."  
  
I look down. Not angry at what she's saying because I realize   
how hard it was for her to say it. But I'm sad because I know   
what she wants me to say next. What I have to say. It's the way   
it has to be.  
  
"I won't risk them either." I practically choke on the words.   
But seeing her grateful smile, I know that's exactly what I was   
supposed to say. "For your safety and for theirs, I'll let you   
go." Even if it kills me. And based on how my heart is   
breaking, I'd say that's exactly what's happening.  
  
I kneel down on the floor in front of her and drop my head down   
to her lap, stroking her stomach. Good-bye my babies. This   
won't be forever. I promise I will find a way to get back to you   
and your mother. Or die trying. Just know how much I love you   
all. I look back up at her and see the tears shining in her   
eyes. She's about to say something. Probably good-bye, but I   
won't let her.  
  
"Don't say it," I beg, covering her lips with my fingers. "This   
isn't the end. I will be back. And we'll be together. I love   
you." I seal my vows with a kiss, drinking in her strength to   
fortify my spirit. To quench my soul. To let me know what I   
will be fighting for. She is mine. She's always been mine. She   
always will be mine. Someday soon we'll all be together again.   
But that day is not today. She's made this choice for us. And   
for right now, there's only once choice left for me to make. And   
that's letting go.  
  
To be continued . . . 


	3. Choices III Coming Home

Title: Coming Home  
Author: Nicky  
E-mail: NickyM96@yahoo.com  
Rating: PG-13  
Keywords: J/MP, MP/B, Angst  
Summary: Miss Parker makes a choice that forever changes the   
lives of those around her. Sequel to Letting Go.  
Disclaimer: As much as I'd like it, these characters don't   
belong to me. I'm just using them for fun. Although, I don't   
think they have much fun in this story :-) I'll be sure to send   
them to therapy before returning them.  
  
Choices III - Coming Home  
By Nicky  
  
I've dreamt about this moment for as long as I've known her. In   
the dreams, it has varied over the years. Sometimes it's quick   
and frenzied in her office. Sometimes slow and exploring in   
mine. Sometimes she comes to me. Mostly I go to her.   
Ironically, after we got married, I lost all hope in the dream   
ever coming true. I realized she didn't love me. She never   
promised me her love. She couldn't give me her heart. That   
already belonged to Jarod. So imagine my surprise when she   
offered me a gift I never thought I'd receive from her.  
  
* * * * * * * * * *  
  
Two hours earlier . . .  
  
I pace nervously around my bedroom, mentally slapping myself for   
my idiotic actions. What have I just done? I just left my wife   
in a hotel room with the love of her life, that's what. How   
stupid was that? While I was at it, I should have just turned   
down the covers and put mints on the pillows. I know that ours   
is a marriage of convenience. I married her to help protect the   
children. If the Centre ever finds out she's having Jarod's   
kids, then who knows what they'll do to her. I can't let   
anything bad happen to her. So to protect her and the children,   
I offered to marry her. That way, the Centre won't have any   
reason to suspect anyone other than me as the father. She'll be   
safe.   
  
But despite the lack of love on her part, a small part of me   
hoped she'd forget all about Jarod once she was my wife. And for   
the two months we've been married, things have been good.   
Debbie's happy. I'm happy. And Marisa seems to be taking things   
in stride. Yes, she lets me call her by her first name. During   
the day at work, she's still Miss Parker. But to us at home,   
she's Marisa. She said it would be ridiculous for Debbie and me   
to still call her Miss Parker in our own home. She still calls   
me Broots. That's only because I'm not wild about my first name.   
She's only called me that during our wedding. But like I said,   
things are good. Other than the fact that we don't share a bed   
or a bedroom, we seem to be your typical, normal couple. Things   
were going fine until tonight.  
  
I stop my mental tirade when the front door opens. Debbie's been   
in bed for hours, so it can only be one person. My wife has come   
home to me. I left her with Jarod, but she came home to me. I'm   
so happy I actually do a little jig, right there in my room. But   
then I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and realize how   
ridiculous I look and stop immediately. But, I'm relieved she's   
back. I honestly wasn't expecting her. With a sigh, I cross the   
room to shut my light off and head to bed. I want to go and   
check on her, but she might need time. For some reason, and   
believe me, I'm not complaining. But for whatever the reason,   
she's back here with me instead of with him. She probably needs   
time to deal with that.  
  
I get into the bed and close my eyes, willing my heart to slow   
down. She's came home to me. She's here with me. And that's   
all that matters right now. Those thoughts repeat in my head as   
I drift into a blissful slumber. Halfway to falling asleep, I   
hear the bedroom door crack open. Light footsteps pad across the   
floor and I'm suddenly on alert, wondering who's in my room. I   
sit up and switch the lamp on, shocked to see who's standing next   
to my bed.  
  
"I'm cold," she says, crawling into the bed next to me. I pinch   
myself to make sure I'm not dreaming. Ouch! Yep, I'm awake.   
And to my utter shock, Miss Parker is climbing into my bed. I   
stare at her, mouth wide open, but with no words coming out.   
Like I said, I think I'm in shock.   
  
"You don't mind, do you?" she asks me.  
  
"Of course not," I manage to stutter. She burrows down into the   
covers and scoots closer to me, laying her head on my chest. I   
immediately react to her, biting my lip to control myself and   
praying she doesn't notice. But I don't know how she couldn't   
notice my little problem. A little gasp from her lets me know   
when she encounters the evidence of my desire for her.  
  
"I haven't been fair to you," she whispers. "I haven't been much   
of a wife."  
  
"It's alright," I groan as her gentle breaths on my neck make my   
whole body tingle.  
  
"No. It's not alright," she sighs. "But it's going to be."  
  
Before I can blink, she rolls onto her back and pulls me on top   
of her. I try to protest, not sure if this is what she truly   
wants, but my hands begin to explore her body of their own   
accord. I am soon powerless to stop what she's set in motion.  
  
* * * * * * * * * *  
  
When he's done, he flops on his back, breathless, but happier   
than I've ever seen him. At least I was able to do this for him.   
It wasn't about me. Everything he's done these past two months   
have been for me. This is the least I can do for him. I can   
offer him this joy even though it leaves me feeling nothing but   
emptiness. As the emptiness consumes me, I roll onto my side and   
face away from him, unable to stop my tears. I don't want him to   
see me like this. But he hears me, his sated brain registering   
the sound of my sniffling. He turns to his side and places his   
hand on my back. I'm barely able to stop myself from flinching   
at the contact.  
  
"Are you okay?" he asks. He sounds worried. "I didn't . . .   
hurt you. Did I?"  
  
"I'm fine," I say, wiping away my tears. I sit up and give him a   
forced smile. "I'm just going to take a shower. Okay?"  
  
"Alright," he yawns, a sleepy smile on his face. He's asleep   
within seconds. I give him a kiss on his forehead and find my   
nightgown on the floor. Pulling it over my head, I make my way   
out the room and down the hall to the shower. The room is soon   
filled with the hot steam of the shower. My skin bears the red   
marks from the stinging water. Yet I feel nothing. I don't feel   
the hot water on my body. I don't feel the hard tile under my   
feet. I don't even feel the cold I felt that initially sent me   
to my husband's bed. I don't feel anything at all. And I don't   
know if that's a good thing or bad thing.  
  
* * * * * * * * * *  
  
I wake up with the feeling that I'm not alone. Turning over, I   
see my wife huddled in a corner of the bed and I realize that   
last night wasn't a dream. She came back to me and gave me a   
gift I wasn't expecting. She gave me a piece of herself I never   
thought I'd receive. I don't know what prompted it, but I won't   
question it for now. I'll just be grateful.  
  
She begins to stir when I run my fingers through her hair. I can   
tell when she wakes up, because her body stiffens. I guess she's   
not sure where she is.  
  
"Good morning, Sunshine," I say when she rolls over to face me.   
For a second, her face scrunches up as if she's going to cry, but   
she manages to stave off the tears. I wonder if it was something   
I said.  
  
"Good morning, Broots," she smiles. I try not to notice how   
disappointed she sounds. I try not to notice how the look in her   
eyes seems to resemble thinly disguised hopelessness and despair.   
  
"I think I forgot to say this last night, but thank you," I say   
shyly. It's been so long since I've slept with a woman that I   
don't remember the rules and the 'morning after' etiquette.   
Especially when the woman is your wife. Thanks may not be   
appropriate, but it's what I'm feeling right now.  
  
"You've been patient," she says. "You've been kind. You deserve   
more than I've been giving you."  
  
"Why last night?" I ask, and immediately want to stick my foot in   
my mouth. Didn't I just say that I wasn't going to question it?   
But now that I have, I look to her expectantly for the answer.  
  
"I don't know," she shrugs. "This is my life now. It's time to   
move on with it."  
  
"And Jarod?" What is with my mouth? I can't seem to stop asking   
these questions. But I admit, I'm more than curious to know what   
happened with them in that hotel room.   
  
"Gone," she sighs. This time, she really does cry. But only a   
few tears. She rubs her belly in a small, circular motion and it   
seems to calm her. "I convinced him this is the best thing for   
all of us. He doesn't want to endanger the children anymore than   
I do. Last night was a good-bye."   
  
An uneasy silence falls on the room. I've finally managed to   
keep my mouth under control. But there's one more thing I'm   
curious about. And as if she can read my mind, she answers my   
one final question.  
  
"Nothing happened with us in that hotel room," she says quietly.   
"I didn't sleep with him. I made vows to you, Broots. I   
promised to remain honest and faithful. And I have."  
  
"I believe you," I smile, pulling her into my arms. I hold onto   
her tightly, still afraid that this is all a dream and if I let   
go, she'll disappear. That's not something I want happening.   
She's with me. She came home to me. And with me is where she's   
going to stay. She made the choice to come home. So I'm making   
the choice to believe this is where she really wants to be.   
Because if I don't believe it, then I'll really see what this is   
costing her. I'll see that her choice is slowly killing her.  
  
* * * * * * * * * *  
  
His embrace becomes suffocating, so I pull away, trying to find   
an excuse to escape.  
  
"We're going to be late for work," I say. He looks over his   
shoulder at the clock radio and nods his head, releasing me from   
the death grip he has on me. I think he's afraid I'll up and   
leave on him. But I won't do that. I can't do that. I don't   
have anywhere to go. There's no one to run to. Jarod's gone   
now. Like I said earlier, this is my life now. It's time to get   
on with it. It's time to push away all the pain and try to cope   
with the present circumstances. When he called me 'Sunshine', I   
almost lost it. That's how Jarod used to wake me. But I can't   
allow that memory anymore. It's too painful. It's in the past.   
My life is here now. With Broots and Debbie. I have to push   
away the memories of Jarod because I can't deal with that pain.   
I don't want to feel it. I don't want to feel anything.  
  
An hour later, I'm dressed and walking down the stairs.   
Normally, it doesn't take me this long to get ready for work.   
But my expanding waistline has limited my wardrobe options. My   
new shape is a bit difficult for me to maneuver and is taking   
some time to get used to. When I finally make it downstairs,   
Broots and Debbie are just finishing with breakfast.  
  
"Good morning, Marisa," Debbie smiles. "We ate already, but Dad   
left you some pancakes. Do you want me to get you some?"  
  
"That's okay, Sweetheart." I give her the same forced smile I've   
become so good at giving. If they look close enough, they'll see   
that it's devoid of any emotions. I can't deal with emotions   
right now. I don't want to feel anything. My so called smile is   
as empty as I'm feeling right now.   
  
"I'm not very hungry this morning," I explain before grabbing my   
stuff from by the front door. "I need to get going. I'll see   
you two later." One more fake smile and I'm able to get out of   
there without them asking me any questions. And without them   
hearing the growling from my stomach betraying the words I just   
spoke. It wasn't a lie, really. I honestly don't feel hungry.   
Because I don't feel anything. But if I can remember, I'll try   
to eat something later. I'll just have to try really, really   
hard to remember.  
  
To be continued . . . 


	4. Choices IV Temporary Fixes

Title: Temporary Fixes  
Author: Nicky  
E-mail: NickyM96@yahoo.com  
Rating: PG  
Keywords: J/MP, MP/B, Angst  
Summary: Miss Parker makes a choice that forever changes the   
lives of those around her. Sequel to Coming Home.  
Disclaimer: As much as I'd like it, these characters don't   
belong to me. I'm just using them for fun. Although, I don't   
think they have much fun in this story :-) I'll be sure to send   
them to therapy before returning them.  
  
Choices IV - Temporary Fixes  
By Nicky  
  
The glare of the sun is what wakes me up. Not so much because   
it's annoying. But because it's unexpected. Broots keeps the   
blinds shut and the curtains drawn in the bedroom because we both   
like to sleep in complete darkness. So why is the sun peeking   
through today? I open my eyes and look around. That's when I   
notice that I'm not in my bedroom. I'm not in my home. I'm in   
the hospital. And the memories of how I got here suddenly come   
rushing back.  
  
* * * * * * * * * *  
  
Two days earlier . . .  
  
I walk around my office, rubbing my stomach unconsciously with   
one hand while flipping through the files in my file cabinet with   
the other.  
  
"Hi Honey," I hear as the door opens. Broots walks in holding a   
tray from the cafeteria.   
  
"Hi," I say, making a point to add a smile. Over the past three   
months, it's become automatic. I don't even have to force it   
anymore. "What do you have there?"  
  
"Lunch," he grins as he sets the tray on my desk. He walks over   
to where I am and places a kiss on my cheek before leading me   
over to my desk and helping me sit. I don't even have to try not   
to cringe whenever he touches me. I just don't feel it anymore.   
  
"I hope you're hungry," he says. He separates the food on the   
tray. A burger and fries for him. A large chicken salad, fruit,   
and a glass of milk for me.   
  
"Thanks," I say quietly. I sip slowly on the glass of milk as he   
rambles on about something I'm not really paying attention to.   
Every few minutes he'll look up to watch me take a bite of food.   
When I've eaten what he considers a sufficient amount, he   
suddenly realizes that lunch time is over and that he has   
something he has to get back to. We've played this game for   
three months now. It annoys me, but it's really sweet of him to   
be this caring and watchful of me. I indulge him whenever I can   
because I really don't think to eat any other time.  
  
As I stand to walk him to the door, the room starts to spin. I   
hold onto the edge of the desk but it doesn't stop the pull of   
gravity on my body. My rubbery legs can no longer support me and   
everything goes black before I feel myself hit the floor.  
  
That happened two days ago. I've been in here since then. I'm   
shaken from my memories by the sound of the door opening. It's   
yet another nurse with yet another tray of food. They keep on   
bringing me these trays of food that go back barely touched. I   
wish they would stop.  
  
"Here's your breakfast, Mrs. Broots," the nurse says, setting the   
tray in front of me.  
  
"Thank you," I say politely, waiting for her to leave before I   
push it away. But she doesn't leave. She sits next to me and   
pulls out a notebook. Uh oh. Something tells me she's not here   
to take my order.  
  
"I'm Dr. Westfield," she says. "Your husband was concerned about   
you. He asked that I come in and talk with you."  
  
"About what?" I ask innocently, picking off a small piece of   
bacon and popping it into my mouth. The doctor makes a little   
noise in the back of her throat and writes something down on her   
pad.   
  
"You do that a lot, don't you?" she asks, glaring curiously at   
me. "You know what people expect from you. So when they start   
to question you about an uncomfortable topic, instead of   
answering, you do something to distract them. For instance, you   
know that I'm in here to talk with you about your eating habits.   
So to throw me off guard, you take a small bite of your   
breakfast. I doubt you've even swallowed it yet, have you?"  
  
Normally, an accusation like that would put me on the defensive.   
But today it doesn't. For one thing, I know she's right. For   
another thing, I really don't care to defend my actions anymore.   
She can think whatever she wants to think about me. I just don't   
care.  
  
"Why are you doing this, Marisa? May I call you Marisa?"  
  
"Please, do," I nod. I know that I am 'Mrs. Broots', but I still   
don't like to think of myself that way.  
  
"Can you tell me why you won't eat, Marisa?"  
  
"I just forget," I say truthfully.   
  
"You forget?" she repeats. She looks puzzled for a second before   
jotting that down on her little pad as well. "Do you forget a   
lot of stuff? Do you forget to get up every morning and go to   
work? Do you forget how to drive to work? Do you forget what   
you do here at work? Do you forget how to take care of your   
husband and stepdaughter? Do you forget how to keep your house   
immaculate? Your husband tells me that you seem to have all that   
in control. Plus you have time every night for him in the   
bedroom. You remember all that, yet you forget to eat."  
  
"I'm not trying to hurt my babies, if that's what you're   
implying," I tell her, wrapping my arms around my stomach.  
  
"Oh, I don't doubt that," she says. "Your husband says that you   
also faithfully remember to take your prenatal vitamins and get   
plenty of rest and exercise. You make it to all of your doctor's   
appointments and you two have signed up for Lamaze. I believe   
you're doing your best to take care of your babies, Marisa. But   
that includes taking care of yourself as well."  
  
I just look at her, unable to say anything. So she takes that as   
a sign to continue.  
  
"You've been to the hospital a lot during the past few months,   
Marisa. Burns. Bruises. Can you explain those?"  
  
"My husband doesn't touch me," I say rather vehemently. I hope   
she's not implying he's abusing me. He doesn't need that kind of   
trouble. He's been nothing but kind to me.  
  
"Calm down. I'm not saying that," she says, giving me another   
curious stare before writing in her book again. "You seem very   
protective of him. Almost as protective as he is of you. You   
can relax. I'm not here to accuse him of hurting you. I think   
someone else is responsible for that - you."  
  
"What?" I wasn't expecting that.  
  
"Not on purpose. At least, I hope not. In talking with your   
husband, he's told me a few things that you may not realize,   
Marisa. You may not be able to account for the burns and   
bruises, but he can. That burn on your hand? He said you and   
Debbie were baking cookies for a bake sale at her school. You   
took out the pan without an oven mitt. You didn't seem to feel   
the pain. The burn on your neck? Do you remember how you got   
that?"  
  
"I dropped the flat iron on it when I was straightening my hair,"   
I explain.  
  
"They were second degree burns, Marisa. Didn't you feel them?"  
  
I just shake my head, looking down at my lap. I see a few tears   
fall onto the blanket covering my legs.  
  
"You went to see your doctor the other day. They drew 3 vials of   
blood. Your husband said it took them 4 tries to find a vein,   
but you didn't even flinch whenever they stuck you." She turns   
my arm and examines the bluish bruise on the inside of my elbow.   
I also notice with a bit of shock how the skin was barely   
stretched over the bone. When had it gotten so thin?  
  
"I didn't feel it. I don't feel anything," I admit in a whisper.   
  
"You recently lost someone very special to you," Dr. Westfield   
says, this time only looking into her book and not writing   
anything in it. "That must have been painful to you."  
  
"Too painful," I cry. "It was too much for me to bear. I didn't   
want to feel pain like that."  
  
"So you shut down so you wouldn't feel the pain. But as a   
consequence, you can't feel anything at all. No emotions. No   
pain, physical or mental. Not even hunger. That's why you   
haven't been eating. It may have seemed like it worked, but that   
was just a temporary fix, Marisa. You ended up doing more harm   
than good. By not eating, you not only hurt yourself, but it   
hurt your family to see you wasting away like this. You put your   
babies in serious jeopardy by not eating. That's how you ended   
up in the hospital."   
  
"I'm sorry," I begin to sob. "I'm so sorry."  
  
"It's not me you need to apologize to, Marisa. Take a good look   
at what you've become." She hands me a mirror and I gasp at the   
reflection of myself. My eyes, once blue and expressive, were   
more like a dull gray color. They were sunken into my head,   
which only further accentuated my hollow cheeks. I looked like   
death. It's a miracle me and my babies are still alive.  
  
"I'll be here to talk to you when you're ready to deal with your   
pain. But I'm not the one you've hurt. I'm not the one you have   
to make this up to. You've hurt yourself and you've hurt your   
family. You can't hide from the pain anymore. Look at what it's   
done." She takes my hand and gives it an encouraging squeeze   
before leaving me alone.  
  
I sit there, crying silently at my sickly reflection for what   
seems like hours. When my stomach rumbles, I look down at it,   
unaccustomed to the ache of hunger. My poor children have been   
in there the entire time, calling to me for months and I've just   
ignored them. They've kicked and punched and rolled all around   
inside me and I don't remember once feeling them. I've given up   
all the good feelings in order to ignore the bad. I've lost   
months that I can't get back. But I can try to make them up.   
With determination, I wipe my face dry and pull the tray of food   
that Dr. Westfield left behind towards me. I eat the whole thing   
without a second thought.  
  
By the end of the day, the nurses who brought me lunch and dinner   
were a bit shocked to be picking up empty food trays. I continue   
to be the model patient because I have to get out of here. Dr.   
Westfield gave me a lot to think about. I hurt a lot of people   
with my choices. And now, there's so much that I have to set   
straight. I pick up the phone and make a phone call. It's just   
a small step, but hopefully it's one in the right direction.   
I've spent the past few months making a mess of my life and the   
lives of those around me with my temporary fixes. It's time now   
for something more lasting.  
  
To be continued . . . 


	5. Choices V Blessed Sacrifices

Title: Blessed Sacrifices  
Author: Nicky  
E-mail: NickyM96@yahoo.com  
Rating: PG  
Keywords: J/MP, MP/B, Angst  
Summary: Miss Parker makes a choice that forever changes the   
lives of those around her. Sequel to Temporary Fixes.  
Disclaimer: As much as I'd like it, these characters don't   
belong to me. I'm just using them for fun. Although, I don't   
think they have much fun in this story :-) I'll be sure to send   
them to therapy before returning them.  
  
Choices V - Blessed Sacrifices  
By Nicky  
  
This is really in poor taste. I mean, this is probably the worst   
time to bring something like this up. She's in the hospital, for   
crying out loud. But if I don't do this now, I don't think I'll   
ever get up the nerve to. I look down at the manila envelope in   
my hand and take a deep breath. It's now or never. I paste a   
tentative smile on my face and push open the hospital door.  
  
"Up for a little company?" I call softly into the room. She   
looks over at me and her face lights up in probably the first   
real smile I've seen since this whole mess started. It just   
confirms to me that this is the right thing to do.  
  
"My husband's always welcome here. Come in." She smiles again   
at me. Another real smile. Two in less than a minute. She   
really is beautiful. Okay, I'm starting to have second thoughts   
now.  
  
"How are you feeling?"   
  
"I'm feeling," she answers me after a moment's pause.  
  
"Care to elaborate?" I ask her with what I'm sure is my confused   
face staring at her.  
  
"I'm feeling," she repeats. "For the first time in months, I'm   
actually feeling . . . something. Anything. It's good. I feel   
alive again."  
  
I still don't get it. But she really does look a lot better than   
she did when I first brought her in, so I guess that's good. I   
take a seat in the empty chair next to her bed.  
  
"I know you probably don't understand," she says. "But I'm going   
to do my best to explain it to you. First let me start by   
thanking you. Broots, if it weren't for you, I know I wouldn't   
be here today. And neither would by babies. We owe you our   
lives. And to repay you, I want to give you back yours." She   
leans over and pulls something out of the desk next to the bed.   
I hold my hand out for the package and stare curiously at her.  
  
"What's this?"  
  
"Just open it," she says, biting her lip. I can see that she's   
nervous, so I open it without anymore questions. Pulling the   
contents out, I almost laugh at the irony of it all.  
  
"Marisa, these look like . . . "  
  
"They're divorce papers," she interrupts me. "Don't take it the   
wrong way, but I can't stay married to you. Oh, that didn't come   
out right. What I'm trying to say is that I don't need you   
anymore. Not that I was using you or anything, it's just . . . "  
  
"It's okay," I smile, stopping her rambling. It's time to put   
her out of her misery. "I understand what you mean. Because I   
came here today to bring these to you."  
  
I give her my own set of divorce papers and watch as her shoulder   
start to shake. A few seconds later, I hear the most beautiful   
sound come out of her mouth - laughter. I can't help but join   
her and we laugh until tears roll down our cheeks.  
  
"I guess great minds think alike," she says when she calms down.   
"What made you decide on this?"  
  
"Having to watch you die right before my eyes," I tell her. "I   
love you, Marisa. But I think it's more like an infatuation. I   
wanted to be with you and it was such an honor to marry you. But   
I don't think I'm in love with you. Not the way I thought I was.   
And although I loved our family, I realized this isn't what you   
need. I thought about it and I realized that even though I   
might not want to, I could live without you. But I could see   
that you were dying without Jarod. I can't let that happen."  
  
"I'm sorry," she says, shaking her head. "I made so many   
mistakes. I shouldn't have . . . "  
  
"Don't," I stop her. "I don't regret anything. I do believe the   
Centre would have harmed you and your children if they knew   
Jarod's the father. I'm glad I was able to help. But staying   
married to me isn't going to help you any longer."  
  
"I still owe you," she tells me. "Read the last page of the   
divorce papers." I look at her strangely for a second before   
flipping through the pages, skimming the last one quickly.  
  
"You had me fired?" I ask incredulously.  
  
"Let go is a better term, Broots," she chuckles. "And I arranged   
for a severance pay that you and Debbie can live off of for years   
with enough left over to send her to whatever college she wants   
to go to. Not many people can leave the Centre. Alive, that is.   
I thought this was your chance to make that escape. To be free.   
You saved my life. I figured I owed you yours."  
  
"Marisa, this is . . . I can't believe this. Thank you." I'm   
just about speechless. She really has given me my life back.   
This is such a miracle. If she thought she owed me anything,   
this has more than paid her debt in full. I lean over her and   
pull her into my arms, holding her close to my body. "Thank you   
so much."  
  
"Just don't be a stranger, okay?" she says, tears flowing down   
her face. "Promise me this won't be good-bye."  
  
"Of course not. I'll always be here for you. No matter where   
you go. No matter where life may take you." I smile at her and   
place a gentle kiss on her lips, probably the last I'll get as   
her husband. I wonder if she'll be okay, but then I look at her   
one last time. No longer did I see the hopelessness and despair.   
She was almost back to her old self. And I knew at that instant   
she'd be fine. I pull a pen out of my pocket and sign the   
divorce papers, setting them back on the bedside table.  
  
"Good-bye Broots," she says, the cool confidence seeping back   
into her voice. I missed that voice. I missed her. I'm glad   
she's back.  
  
I get to the door and stop, smiling briefly to myself.   
  
"Good-bye . . . Miss Parker." She meets my smile with one of her   
own as I ease out of the door.  
  
* * * * * * * * * *  
  
Miss Parker. I smile. Broots is right. Miss Parker is back.   
There's nothing wrong with being Marisa. There's nothing wrong   
with being Broots' wife or Debbie's mother. But Miss Parker is   
who I am meant to be. And Jarod is who I am meant to be with.   
Thanks to Broots, we have a chance. One of these days, I'll see   
Jarod again. And on that day, I'll be able to present him with   
our beautiful, perfect children who wouldn't be had it not been   
for the blessed sacrifices we all made.  
  
I lean over and try to reach the signed divorce papers to put   
them back in envelope. I need to get them mailed as soon as   
possible. It's time for all of us to have our lives back. In my   
haste, I knock the ink pen onto the floor and it rolls under the   
bed. With a muffled curse, I reach underneath and try to grab it   
with my hand. But I lose my balance and almost fall out of the   
bed.  
  
"Need some help?"  
  
I gasp, sitting straight up in the bed. That voice is   
undeniable. I know that voice like I know my own. But I won't   
believe it until I see the face with my own eyes.  
  
"Jarod?" I stare at him, a shaky hand rising to cover my open   
mouth.  
  
"It's me," he says, standing tentatively by the door. I hold my   
arms out to him and he wastes no time running to me, scooping my   
light body into his lap. I can't help it. I start to cry.   
After not feeling anything for so long, all the emotion of the   
past few days are a bit overwhelming.  
  
"Are you real? Are you really here?" I ask as I sob onto his   
shoulder.  
  
"I'm here for as long as you'll have me," he says, stroking my   
back gently with is hand. He begins to place tiny kisses on my   
face, brushing away the tears with his lips. "I missed you so   
much. Do you think Broots would mind if I kissed his wife?"  
  
I just grin at him and pull his head to me, crushing his mouth   
with my own. I take my time and thoroughly explore, getting to   
know his kiss once again. I missed this so much. I missed him.   
I try to mumble that between our kisses.  
  
"Missed you," I groan. "Love you."  
  
"I love you, too," he says, pulling away from me. I try to kiss   
him again, but he holds me steady. "We can't do this. What   
about Broots?"  
  
"The bum divorced me not 5 minutes before you got here," I say   
with a smile.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Just kidding," I laugh. "Actually, I divorced him." I show   
him the divorce papers and wait until he absorbs the news before   
I continue. "I was dying without you, Jarod. I tried to be a   
wife to him, but I lost more and more of myself each day I wasn't   
with you."  
  
"I can see that," he says sadly, bringing one of my bony hands to   
his lips and kissing it gently. "You look . . . "  
  
"Terrible," I finish for him, knowing he wouldn't have said it.   
"You don't have to say it. I know it's true. But I finally saw   
what I was doing to myself and these babies. What I was doing to   
Broots and Debbie. I had to make some changes. Divorcing Broots   
was the first thing. I didn't want to ruin his life anymore than   
I did. I owed him more than that. Then I vowed to get better.   
And finally . . . "  
  
"What?"  
  
I look at him and sigh, pulling him into my arms. I hold him   
tightly for a few minutes before releasing him.  
  
"And finally what, Parker?"  
  
"And finally this," I say. "You. Me. Our kids. I knew it would   
happen one day. You promised we'd be together. I'm just glad   
the day came sooner rather than later."  
  
"We'll be safe," he says. "I found a way to take down the   
Centre. Once the babies are born, we'll take care of the Centre   
once and for all. But for right now, we'll have to go away and   
stay hidden for awhile. Is that okay?"  
  
"Okay? Jarod, I don't care. Just as long as we're together,   
I'll be fine."  
  
"Together forever, Parker. Promise me. I can't bear to be apart   
from you again."  
  
"Then I guess you're stuck with me," I say. "Because I'm not   
letting you out of my sight ever again."  
  
I run my hands over his face, still not believing that he's   
really here. That I'm really in his arms. And right now,   
there's no where else I'd rather be.  
  
The End. 


End file.
